Just another blog with nothing really to say except to express myself to no-one in particular with no particular reason other than other people are doing it. If you are reading this, you may have to tollerate posts with good recipes, great guitar, and video game references all at once. I hope that you are not too put off.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Gardens of the Afterlife

"It's beautifully maintained."

"Thank you," Simon replied very simply, smiling. His heart was in hiswork, and he felt it was visible how much care he placed in it. Fewpeople ever said much to him about it, though. Simon didn't reallyexpect them to, they frequently had so much else on their minds. Hewasn't sure whether she knew that it was his work her compliment hadgone to.

He didn't know her name, either, but she was pretty. Her hair did thatthing where the sun glittered off of it around the edges and made itlook like it was giving off light on its own. She sat down next to himat the edge of the pond. It was Simon's favorite spot. Not because ofhow pretty the pond looked, or the view, though they were both quiteexcellent. It was really the sound of the babbling of the tinyfountains churning the water that he liked.

It was the only noise he ever heard inside of the walls of theLakeside Cemetery aside from the guests. It's not that there wasanything un-natural about the quiet inside the gates, or that Simonwas supernatural. He just liked a little bit of noise in thebackground, something soothing.

After a moment, he turned to her and asked, "Are you here visitingsomeone close?"

She nodded gently, saying, "My father."

"Were you close?"

She looked out, eyes drifting across the mild hilly landscape, filledwith trees and lattice covered trails and so many tombstones, even afew small mausoleums. His question wen unanswered for an uncomfortablylong moment, and Simon found himself becoming quite aware of thefeeling of the sunlight on his back, hot even with the cool weather.

Wind blew through the grounds, a quick cool breeze that disturbedSimon's hair. He understood. Not in any way that he could spell out orexpress what she meant, but he understood. This place was beautiful,and sometimes words just could not express why. He looked out to theright, at the top of the nearest hill, where the sculpture of andangel peered out, standing guard over the eternal resting places ofthe permanent inhabitants of these walls.